


Below the Fold

by breathewords



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Missing Scene, gratuitous editing, let's make a paper, student newspaper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 03:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14323272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathewords/pseuds/breathewords
Summary: Betty and Jughead and missing scenes of falling in love in the Blue and Gold office. This one's for everyone who's spent too many late nights in the office of their student newspaper and wouldn't trade them for the world.





	Below the Fold

**Season One, Chapter Three**

 

“Jughead! What are you doing here?”

 

When Betty threw on the lights at the Blue and Gold office late at night, after the Mayor’s ceremony, after her night with Veronica and Chuck, after everyone in Riverdale was supposedly fast asleep, she didn’t expect to find Jughead Jones in her office.

 

“Oh, uh, I got Dilton to talk. Wanted to write something up before I forgot any of the details. Well, there isn’t much yet, but I told him to come in tomorrow. I think he’s gonna give us the whole story then.”

 

“Story about what?” Betty asks.

 

“About how he was the one who fired that gun at Sweatwater River.”

 

“Right! Your assignment. Great work, Juggie.”

 

She exhales and lets out a breathy laugh, not her usual laugh, but something more … out of character. Jughead knows he should leave well enough alone. He should go home, well, back to the drive-in, but he was kind of planning on sleeping in the Blue and Gold office tonight, and when Betty calls him “Juggie,” something in him goes a little soft.

 

“Are you alright, Betty?” he asks her.

 

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine, Jug. I was actually gonna write something up myself. Maybe you can stay and help? If you’re up for a long night?”

 

He hesitates, not because he wants to say no, but because of how much he wants to say yes.

 

“You don’t have to,” Betty amends quickly. “It’s just … it would be nice to have some company for a little while.”

 

She’s definitely not herself. Something went wrong for her tonight, he can tell. They’ve been friends a long time, and while they usually don’t spend time alone together without Archie, he understands her well enough to judge her moods. He wants to press further, to find out what’s wrong and make it right, but he also understands that’s not his job. It’s more of Archie’s territory, really. He considers sending the red-headed boy who’s lucky enough to be Betty’s shoulder to cry on a text so maybe he can come here and deal with her, but he locks his phone before he even types his passcode in. He’s here, he’s ready to write, and that’s what she wants to do.

 

“We better get to work, then.”

 

Betty beelines for the coffee pot, turns it on, and fixes herself a huge mug before turning back to Jughead looking and sounding a little more like herself.

 

“Let’s make a paper.”

 

At first, they work in silence. He finishes transcribing his conversation with Dilton in twenty minutes, and when he looks up at Betty, she’s pounding on the keyboard so furiously, he decides not to interrupt her. He just watches. Why shouldn’t he? There’s nothing else to do in the dimly-lit office. There’s no one here to call him out for it. And, he might as well admit it, he doesn’t exactly hate looking at her. So he passes the time memorizing her face. The way she relaxes when she types. The slight furrow to her eyebrow when she pauses to work out how to phrase something. The way she stops every few minutes to obsessively tighten her ponytail. The shade of lipstick she’s wearing, much bolder than her usual color. The minutes fly by, and by the time she finally pushes her laptop away and leans back in her chair, it’s past midnight.

 

“Will you glance over this for me?” she asks.

 

He pretends to be just looking up from the screen in front of him and nods as she passes her laptop over.

 

“Then we can do the layout,” she tells him, making her way over to the coffee pot to refill her mug. “I’ve already edited all the other stories, so we shouldn’t be _that_ much longer.”

 

Apparently, that phrase means something different to Betty than it does to the rest of the world, since they’re in the Blue and Gold office staring at InDesign until 3 a.m.

 

“Okay, I’ve got to print these out,” Betty finally says. “You should head home, Jug.”

 

“And leave you here all alone?” he says with a smirk in her direction.

 

“I think I’ll be fine on my own.”

 

But he doesn’t really want to leave the office. Doesn’t want to leave the smell of old paper and fresh ink. Doesn’t want to leave Betty. Doesn’t want to “head home” to his bed at the drive-in where there’s no one to help him fill the lonely hours, no mom or dad or sister.

 

So he stays, and they sit for another hour listening to the Blue and Gold print. And when it’s done they sit talking, talking about old movies they used to watch together on cold winter nights and books they used to read on summer days when Archie was at sports camp.

 

He wants to ask about the Blue and Gold article currently staring up at them from the front page. Wants to ask why she wrote this particular story in a flurry of blonde flyaways and cups of coffee in the middle of the night on a school night. Because it’s clearly personal. He can’t _really_ tell from her writing, she is a journalist, after all, but it’s just something he knows.

 

She wants to ask about the real reason why he came here in the middle of the night. Wants to ask why the bags under his eyes have become more pronounced than usual, why he’s receded into himself more than usual, if he’s okay. Because he clearly isn’t. She can’t _really_ tell from the way he acts, it’s just something she knows.

 

And even though they know all these things about one another, even though they’ve been friends since they were kids and have always been _something_ to one another, they’ve never been close enough for that kind of conversation. They’ve always left it up to Archie. No wonder nothing ever seems easy for the two of them.

 

So they sit in the Blue and Gold office until the sun starts to rise, not wanting to walk back into reality. Because in reality he’s _weird_ and she’s _rigid_ and the two of them sitting alone together and talking through the night just doesn’t make sense. But in the Blue and Gold office, it does.

 

* * *

 

**Season One, Chapter Four**

 

He’s pacing the confines of the space behind the projector at the drive-in, trying to think of some way to stop Mayor McCoy from closing it down, when his phone chirps.

 

Betty: _Sorry I ditched at Pop’s. Mom showed up._

 

Jughead: _no worries, betts_

 

He throws his phone down and resumes his pacing, expecting the conversation to be over, when Betty texts again.

 

Betty: _No, I know you were really upset about the drive-in. Still want to talk about it?_

 

Of course he does. It’s all he can think about. He can’t even focus on his assignment for the Blue and Gold, even though it’s important to him. Can’t focus on his school work, which is admittedly less important. Can’t focus on what’s going on with Archie, although maybe he should have tried a little harder to get his best friend to stop sleeping with a manipulative music teacher. Because they’re gonna take his home away. His family is already gone. Now this. He’ll have nothing. But there’s always Betty. Solid and dependable as ever. Of course he wants to talk.

 

Jughead: _yeah. help me brainstorm some brilliant ideas?_

 

Betty: _Would be my pleasure. Meet me at school._

 

It’s Saturday and the halls are deserted, but Jughead heads right to the newspaper office he’s coming to know and love, and not just because it smells like sunshine and vanilla. Sure enough, Betty’s perched on her desk, two black coffees in Riverdale High mugs steaming next to her.

 

“Breaking into school on a Saturday? You deviant.”

 

“It’s not breaking in, I have a key! I just think better in here. Figured it might work for you, too.”

 

“I think coffee would work for me.”

 

“Lucky you, then,” she says, handing him one of the mugs.

 

He hops up onto the desk next to her without being invited, and she doesn’t seem to mind. They’ve never really been that great at personal space. She leans her head on his shoulder like she’s done a million times before, and to anyone else it might not look platonic, but it’s what they do, and he knows it means he’s not the only one who needs an ally right now.

 

“Something on your mind there, Nancy Drew?”

 

She sighs and angles her head to look up at him.

 

“Archie,” she says. “I don’t know how to get him to see that Ms. Grundy isn’t good for him, no matter how many sob stories she tells.”

 

“Betts, don’t hate me for asking this, but does any of this have to do with the fact that you might still have feelings for Archie?”

 

Not that he’s personally invested in her answer, but it’s a valid question for anyone to ask.

 

“Veronica asked the same thing.”

 

_Phew, so it is a valid question, then._

 

“But that’s not the reason,” she says. “I mean, it was definitely a hard pill to swallow, but I know now that Archie and I will always be better off as friends. And I would do this for any friend. I’d do it for you.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m not fucking my music teacher.”

 

“Juggie!”

 

She takes her head off his shoulder and he misses the weight of it, but she’s laughing at something he said, which feels almost as good as physical contact.

 

“I think you’ve done everything you can,” he tells her after she’s resettled herself, legs crossed, coffee mug clenched between her palms. “He’ll come to his senses. Trust me. I know Archie. He might not be quick on the uptake, but he gets there eventually.”

 

“You’re right. How do you always know exactly what to say to me?”

 

_Because I get you, even though I don’t get anyone else. Because I’ve always been there for you. Because I’d do anything to make things right for you._

 

“Because I’m a writer, Miss Editor-In-Chief.”

 

She laughs and pushes herself into a standing position, and turns to face him, hands firmly planted on her hips.

 

“Okay, next item on the agenda, then. The Twilight. What’s the plan?”

 

“To get this town to see they’d be tearing down a landmark?”

 

“A landmark, huh?”

 

He’s on his feet now, too, pacing again, trying not to get worked up, but it’s so hard when he gets this passionate.

 

“Yes, Betty, a landmark! An actual place where there’s some semblance of _culture_ in Riverdale. Culture and _memories._ ”

 

And she’s looking at him with such understanding in her eyes that the stories just come pouring out of him. When she looks at him like that, he loses all control over what comes out of his mouth.

 

“It’s where my dad proposed to my mom. It’s where I took Jellybean the first time I babysat her alone. It’s where my family used to go every weekend when we were actually a family. It’s where I would go to think, to get out the house when things got bad, to do my homework when I couldn’t focus at school. It’s where _we_ became friends, Betty. It’s my home. We can’t let them take something that important away.”

 

He’s waiting for her to tell him to calm down, that he’s overreacting or being dramatic. But she doesn’t.

 

“So we won’t,” she says. “Come on. You’re going to go talk to Mayor McCoy. I’ll walk you there.”

 

She holds her hand out, but he doesn’t really notice. He’s too worked up again. He only just scratched the surface with what he said to Betty. He’s thinking about how the Twilight was supposed to be where he’d take a girl, Betty, if he’s being honest, it’s always Betty in his mind, to have their first kiss. It’s supposed to be where his parents get back together. It’s supposed to be where they go to celebrate when his mom and sister finally decide to come back from Toledo. And now, those things can never happen. He’s not sure if that’s because the drive-in is closing, or just because it’s reality, but either way, it makes him angry thinking about it. And a little scared, too.

 

“Juggie.”

 

She puts her hands on his shoulders.

 

“We’re going to fix this.”

 

Rubs them up and down his arms.

 

“I promise.”

 

Pulls him in for a hug.

 

He can breathe again, and he knows he and Betty don’t really hug like this all that often, but he’ll take what he can get. So he hugs her back, and he knows he’s probably crushing her shoulders, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

 

When she pulls away, he’s hit with reality again, but suddenly it doesn’t feel all that bad. Maybe he really can save the drive-in. And if he can’t, there’s always new places to make new memories. Like the Blue and Gold office.

 

* * *

 

**Season One, Chapter Five**

 

With Jason’s memorial, the weekend was so hectic Jughead is almost glad when Monday comes and he’s reabsorbed by the monotony that is Riverdale High. Almost. Because by the time his free period comes around, he’s so eager to escape the droning voices of his professors he practically sprints to the Blue and Gold office to meet Betty.

 

But when he gets there, her hands are curled into fists and her eyes are filled with barely suppressed panic, so he immediately drops his bag and goes to her side.

 

“What is it? Something about the Jason Blossom case?”

 

She nods frantically. He knew it. He just knew it. He can’t help but be excited by the idea of a possible lead, but when she tells him what her dad said, that he was lying about Polly hurting herself, that her family has some sort of ancient blood feud with the Blossoms, that her dad would have done anything to keep Polly away from Jason, he has to watch her put the pieces together, and it breaks something in him apart. But something about Betty is so sure, so strong, that even as she pins her family name to the board of murder suspects, she doesn’t hesitate or break down or cry. And he loves that about her. He loves a lot of things about her. He loves her. And as they’re standing in the Blue and Gold office, discussing ways her father could have broken into Sheriff Keller’s office, he’s also thinking about the fact that he’s in love with Betty Cooper.

 

He has been for a long time. He just didn’t know what to call it. What to call it when his heart leapt every time she showed up at Archie’s when they were little. Every time they brushed hands on the swings. Every time she sat down in the booth across from him at Pop’s. Every time he’s walked into this office since she asked him to write the article on Jason. It’s been love all this time. Now that he knows it, he’s afraid he won’t be able to keep it in much longer. He’s ripped out of his thoughts by the sound of Betty spiraling. He feels horrible for tuning out, because she’s clenching her fists so tightly it looks like her fingers might break and she’s muttering about her father and wondering if her mother is involved and contemplating how they’re going to get to Polly and he can practically see her brain working in overdrive, so he stops her before it explodes. Because as strong as he is, he also loves her for how human she is.

 

He takes her wrists in his hands and she immediately uncurls her fingers. He catches the familiar sight of blood under her fingernails and his concern increases, but he chooses to ignore that for now and leads her over to the well-worn couch he and Archie moved into the office for her last year when she was working overtime to get the paper back on its feet after years of neglect.

 

“Sit down, Betts. Okay?”

 

She nods, eyes still unfocused, but collapses onto the couch like he suggested. When he sits down next to her, she puts her head in his lap and her feet up on the armrest and he takes it as an invitation to start carding his fingers through her hair.

 

“Just relax,” he tells her. “We’ll figure it out together. Tomorrow. We can sleep on it.”

 

She nods and closes her eyes, and she tired herself out so much that she almost immediately falls asleep. He gives her 20 minutes, and even then he feels bad waking her, but he knows she’d kill him if he let her sleep through class.

 

“Betty,” he whispers, shaking her shoulder gently.

 

She grabs his hand and shoots awake, nearly bumping their heads together as she pulls hers out of his lap.

 

“You fell asleep,” he says, somewhat startled.

 

She looks around for a second before realizing she’s still gripping his hand.

 

“Sorry,” she says, dropping it quickly. “It’s been a long weekend.”

 

“Tell me about it,” he says. He’s spent the passed couple of nights wandering the Southside, still no new leads on a place to sleep.

 

She gets up, re-does her ponytail, and grabs her backpack, no trace of the distracted mess she was before she fell asleep.

 

“Thank you,” she says.

 

“For what?”

 

“Calming me down. You can always get me to stop thinking.”

 

“Glad I’m dumbing you down,” he jokes.

 

“I’m serious, Juggie. I wouldn’t be able to get through this article without you taking the lead on it.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Betty. I’m glad I agreed. I guess print isn’t dead after all.”

 

“Not at long as I’m around.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Season One, Chapter Six**

 

After the Variety Show, after they find Jason’s car burning and Polly’s window smashed, after they board the bus back from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy, Betty leans into Jughead’s side and tells him she doesn’t want to go home.

 

“I can’t face my parents,” she says. “I don’t think I can sleep under the same roof as them.”

 

“Wanna go to Pop’s?” Jughead suggests, like he’s done so many times before. Except this time, it’s with his arm comfortably slung across Betty’s shoulders and the memory of her lips on his.

 

“It’ll be packed,” she says.

 

“It’s always packed.”

 

“I know. Can we just go somewhere alone? Please, Juggie? It’s not just my parents. I’m just not really in the mood to face anyone, I guess. Just you.”

 

She didn’t have to explain herself. He was brainstorming spots as soon as she said his name with that cute little inflection he loves so much, but he’s glad she did.

 

“So, I take it you’re not mad about me kissing you earlier?”

 

They haven’t really talked about it, and he’s dying to know what’s going on in her head. In response, she just pulls his arm further around her shoulders and presses herself more firmly into his side. He’ll take it.

 

When they get off the bus, he takes her to the only place he can. Riverdale High.

 

“We can’t go to your place?” she asks.

 

“Jellybean’s been stressing about a vocab test she has tomorrow, and she’ll kill me if we wake her up.”

 

He’s still lying about his family. About the fact that his mom and sister left and he’s living in the supply closet under the back stairs at school. And he doesn’t think telling Betty the truth right then and there will make this night easier for either one of them.

 

She’s distracted though, who wouldn’t be after seeing a car go up in flames and their sister’s blood on a broken glass window, so she doesn’t ask questions. She just pulls out the key to the Blue and Gold office she always keeps on her and unlocks the door, twining her fingers through Jughead’s and leading him inside.

 

“Okay, transcribe what we have first, then we can write up a list of questions and see if Sheriff Keller will answer any on the record. Oh, shit, and I have to text my mom and tell her I’m sleeping at Veronica’s. She won’t like it, but hopefully she won’t try to track me down there.”

 

“Betty, are you serious? It’s been a long day. Let’s not work on the article tonight.”

 

“We have to at least get everything down on paper before we forget, Jug. Fifteen minutes max, I promise.”

 

So he jots some unanswered questions down in one of the reporter’s notebooks littering the office, and when 15 minutes are up, he takes her notebook and pen out of her hands and stows them in her desk for the night.

 

“Jug…” she starts.

 

“That was 15 minutes, Betty. You should really go home, anyway. Come on.”

 

She raises her eyebrows at him.

 

“What?” he asks.

 

“And you? You’ll go home too?”

 

“Yeah,” he lies.

 

But he knows he’s running out of time with this facade he’s built. She can read him. It’s unnerving, but also exciting. It means he’ll have to tell her soon. But not tonight. She’s staring at him with those huge eyes that pierce his soul, so he concedes.

 

“Fine. We can hang out here. But we’re setting alarms for early in the morning so you can go home and change before school.”

 

“Of course,” she says with a smile.

 

It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and he can see from across the room that each of her muscles are tensed and her fists are rhythmically clenching without the notebook in her hands, so he closes the space between them, sits next to her on the couch, and starts to massage her shoulders.

 

“Is this okay?” he asks.

 

“More than.”

 

And she begins to relax under his touch.

 

“Lie down, Betts,” he says when she starts to nod off.

 

She does, head in his lap again. But after twenty minutes, she’s still wide awake, and he feels more alert than ever.

 

“Juggie?”

 

“Mhm?”

 

“Will you lie down with me?”

 

He knows he won’t say no to her, so why bother trying? He just gives into it. Why not sleep here, with her, as opposed to in a broom closet filled with spiders down the hall? So he sets his alarm, pulls off his beanie, and fits himself between Betty and the back of the old couch in the Blue and Gold office. Within minutes, they’re both asleep.

 

* * *

 

**Season One, Chapter Seven**

 

When Jughead cracks the door to the Blue and Gold office at 6 a.m. the morning after being interrogated by Sheriff Keller and moving in with the Andrews’, he’s so tired he doesn’t even notice Betty until she bumps his hip as he puts down the coffee pot, nearly shattering it in surprise.

 

“Jesus, Betty! Never do that again!”

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was trying to be flirty! Never again, though.”

 

“Well, I don’t know about _never_.”

 

He smiles, and he can feel her lips form a grin as they press against his. Even after a day spent at the police station, complete with a trip down memory lane to all the times he’s been bullied and a charged scene with his father, even after a completely sleepless night on Archie’s floor, even before his first cup of coffee for the day, Betty can still get him to smile.

 

“How long have you been here?” he asks.

 

“About an hour.”

 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

 

She shakes her head.

 

“I’m just worried.”

 

“About Polly? Betty, I’m sure she’s fine at Veronica’s…”

 

“Not about Polly. Well, sure, I always worry about her, but I know she’s safe for now. I’m worried about _you_ , Juggie.”

 

“Me?” he scoffs. “Why? I’m fine.”

 

But his voice cracks a little, and he knows the ever-darkening bags under his eyes are giving him away anyway.

 

“Jughead! You literally spent yesterday in a police station. And I was _there_ when your dad told you to stay at Archie’s. You can’t lie to me, I’ve known you too long. How long has it been since you’ve lived at home? What’s going on, Jug?”

 

He tries to hold it back, to bite his tongue, to push it down, but he’s running on no sleep and no coffee, and Betty’s laced her fingers with his and is pulling him towards the couch, _their_ couch, and she’s so soft and sweet and she’s worried about _him_ , she cares about _him_ , and he’s weak so everything he’s been bottling up just comes rushing out of him like a flood.

 

“Mr. Andrews fired my dad a couple months back. After that, he fell off the wagon. Started drinking again. Would yell at my mom and Jellybean for the littlest things. When he started getting kinda violent with me, Mom got scared, took Jellybean, and moved them to Toledo. My dad wouldn’t listen to me when I told him to clean up his act and get them back, to get a job, to get his life back together before it was too late. One night we had this huge fight about it and he … I moved out. I was living at the drive-in until it closed down. After that, I started sleeping in this supply closet at school until Archie busted me, convinced his dad to hire mine back, and convinced me to crash at his place until I can go back home. But in all honesty, I don’t know how long that’ll be. I know for a fact he’s still drinking. He didn’t show up when Keller brought me to the station. I want to believe in him, Betty, I need to, but he makes it so hard.”

 

“You should have told me,” she says. “Even before we… you know… became a couple. I thought we were closer than that. And you’ve been such a rock for me with everything going on with Polly, I didn’t even think…”

 

“Betts, you’ve always been one of my best friends. But this wasn’t something I wanted to burden anyone with. Not you, not even Archie.”

 

“Well, your burdens are mine now, okay?”

 

“Okay,” he concedes, but she knows it’ll take much longer until he means it.

 

She decides to try to convince him anyway. So she straddles his lap, pinning him to the couch, and kisses him like she knows what she’s doing, even though she’s clueless. When she swipes her tongue across his lips, everything else disappears. Nothing else matters, not his fucked-up family, not Reggie and his squad of football players who harass him in the halls, not his temporary homelessness or anything else that makes him feel like a misfit in Riverdale.

 

And when he moves his lips to her ear, her neck, her collarbone, it’s like she floating. Floating somewhere were nothing can touch her, not her controlling mom or her temperamental dad, not her sister, not Jason Blossom, not her ADHD or her anxiety.

 

Just the two of them, the smell of freshly-brewed coffee and newsprint, the sound of the Blue and Gold’s printing press, the feeling of the exposed foam of the couch beneath them deteriorating slowly, and the taste of each other’s lips.

 

* * *

 

**Season One, Chapter Eight**

 

The day Veronica suggests hosting a baby shower for Polly, after Alice Cooper stormed into Riverdale High and told the girls off for harboring Polly at the Pembroke, Jughead and Betty eat lunch in the Blue and Gold office.

 

He valiantly rescues her from the classroom where her mom has her sequestered, claiming she’s late for class.

 

“My hero,” she swoons as he pulls her down the hallway.

 

“Thank me later,” he says. “We really are behind deadline for the print edition of the Blue and Gold.”

 

“Shit. I totally forgot. Okay, let’s do this.”

 

Ten minutes in to final edits, Betty realizes there’s a huge chunk of whitespace on the layout and no article to fill it. She blanches.

 

“What? What’s wrong?” Jughead asks.

 

“I’m a story short! How did this happen? Oh my god, this never happens, Jug, I…”

 

“Betty, relax. I got this. How many words do you need?”

 

“What? Oh, just 500. It’s inside, below the fold. But Jug, how…”

 

“I said don’t worry about it. I’ll just go profile the first teacher I find. They love when we do that. Give me 10 minutes.”

 

He presses a quick kiss to her lips, grabs a notebook, and is jotting down questions before he’s even out the door. She’s left standing there in shock.

 

He’s back 10 minutes later, true to his word, with a fully-recorded interview and lunch for the both of them.

 

“What’s up with you today? Are you Superman? Did you get bit by a radioactive spider?”

 

“That’s Spiderman, Betty,” he says, dragging her to the couch and pushing a tray into her lap. “I’m just in a good mood. And I actually really like this whole journalism thing.”

 

“Jughead Jones, are you trying to impress me? I’m already your girlfriend, if you haven’t noticed.”

 

“Is this interview on the record?”

 

She smiles and starts eating. He devours his cafeteria lunch in record time, and an hour later, he emails her a copy of the finished profile, edited and fact-checked nearly to perfection.

 

That’s why that night, even though she’s blindsided by the fact that his dad is a Serpent, even though it’s late and her parents are fighting and her sister is emotional, she puts her faith in Jughead.

 

“I believe you,” she tells him when he turns her question about wether or not his father was being honest about his involvement in Jason’s murder back around.

 

And she does. Because he always comes through for her.

 

* * *

 

**Season One, Chapter Nine**

 

If she hadn’t crashed right into Jughead as she ran through the halls, Betty would have ended up in tears in the bathroom, like Veronica would be when Betty chases her in there later that day, crying like so many girls in this fucked-up town do.

 

But by some sort of divine intervention, Jughead’s evading second period at the same time she is, staring down at his phone to change the song blaring through his headphones as he rounds the corner, and Betty runs headfirst into his chest.

 

“Betty?” he asks, alarmed by her sudden presence in the deserted hallway.

 

He cups her chin and forces eye contact, but when she looks up at him, she can’t hold it in anymore. She bursts into tears and rips his hand away from her chin so she can hide her face. He thinks she’s mad at him, thinks he did something wrong, but when she buries her face against his chest, he knows it’s something else.

 

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, let’s get out of the hallway, Betts. Okay?”

 

He feels her nod so he leads her to the Blue and Gold office, unlocking the door with the new key she recently gifted him. He doesn’t get two steps before she’s launched herself back into his arms, so he just leans against one of the spare desks and holds her until she’s mostly cried out.

 

Eventually, she stands on her own, grabs a tissue, and tells him about what went down at the Register the night before.

 

 _“My parents are unbelievable, Jug,”_ she says when she’s regained her some of her composure and most of her fire. _“Polly is locked up in that house like a character out of Jane Eyer, and what are they doing? Changing each other’s login accounts and throwing bricks through windows.”_

 

He tries to make a joke, _“I wish I could have seen that,”_ because it’s really the only way he knows how to cope with other peoples’ sadness, but when she starts crying again he knows he has to do better. So he tells her how strong he thinks she is, how she can get her family through this. He doesn’t tell her how he wishes he could have done half as much for his family as she does for hers. This isn’t about him.

 

“Okay, I’m starving,” he says, trying for humor again. She’s always teasing him about his endless appetite.

 

“Seriously? It’s second period, Jug!”

 

“So what? Let’s get out of here, go to Pop’s. We both have free period next, and the rest of this period is shot to hell, anyway.”

 

“You’re a horrible influence,” she groans.

 

“We can pick it up and bring it right back here. Come on.”

 

She smiles and he takes her hand, pulling her out the door.

 

By the start of the next period, they’re back in the Blue and Gold office, dipping french fries in to-go cups of milkshakes. She’s smiling and shrieking as he tosses fries at her and he’s thinking about how beautiful she looks in the muted light of the office, dust dancing in the air around her, framed by a backdrop of old furniture and discarded newspapers. He’s removed his hat and laughs when Betty takes a huge sip of her milkshake and gets brain freeze, head thrown back and mouth wide open. She’s thinking about how relaxed and carefree he looks, much different than usual, with his thick hair sticking up in all directions, feet up on a wooden desk bearing doodles and etching from generations of Riverdale High students. She loves him like this, when he’s just her’s and they’re in the Blue and Gold office where all their problems can be fixed with a little elbow grease and some journalistic determination. Where she falls in love with him.

 

* * *

 

**Season One, Chapter 10**

 

She’s still curled into him at a booth in Pop’s, palms stinging from a stressful night but relieved after they both apologized for how they acted at his birthday party gone wrong, when his phone buzzes on the table.

 

“Just a text from Archie,” he says.

 

He rolls his eyes when he reads it and doesn’t reply.

 

“What does he want?”

 

“For me to not come home. Apparently, he has a girl sleeping over.”

 

“Oh, Arch,” Betty laughs. “Don’t worry, Juggie, I’ll keep you company.”

 

He smirks down at her before pulling her in for a kiss.

 

“Are you sure your eye’s okay?” she asks, brushing her thumb across the purplish skin above his cheekbone.

 

“I’ll be fine. As long as you’ll still kiss me, even with a black eye.”

 

When she leans up and whispers in his ear, he can’t help the way his body reacts, tensing, wanting her in every way, right here in Pop’s.

 

“I think it looks sexy,” she says, cotton-candy voice laced with seduction.

 

“Get used to it.”

 

He tries to be suave, but his voice comes out high-pitched and choppy. He hopes she doesn’t notice, but also kind of hopes she realizes the effect she’s having on him. She’s Betty, Riverdale’s Nancy Drew, so of course she does.

 

“Dessert to go?” she asks, but when they leave the booth, their hands are empty.

 

“Where do you wanna go?” he asks, pushing her against the wall in the alley of Pop’s maybe a little too eagerly.

 

But he can tell she doesn’t mind by the way she attacks his lips, body pushed so close to his he can feel her muscles contract when she rises on tiptoe.

 

“We can’t go back to my place,” she says between kisses. “My mom would skin me alive if she caught us.”

 

“We could just stay right here,” he says suggestively.

 

“Or…” she says, breaking their kiss and wiggling her eyebrows.

 

That’s how they end up in the Blue and Gold office, shirts quickly joining the collection of old print editions and broken pencils and pen caps and wadded up paper and candy wrappers on the floor, whispering as if they’re not the only ones in the school after midnight on a Saturday night. He hovers above her on the couch, exploring her body with his lips until his arm gets tired and he can’t take not touching her anymore. But she’s the one who reaches for his belt buckle, undoes it and drops to her knees.

 

“What are you doing, Betts?”

 

“What, do you not want me to?”

 

His voice catches in his throat, and he thanks God his dad made him go back into Archie’s house to talk to Betty before he made a huge mistake. Then, he immediately stops thinking about his dad.

 

“Trust me, Juggie,” she says, and within minutes she has him going to pieces.

 

All she ever really had to do was bat her eyes and call him “Juggie” and he’d do anything she asked. It’s been that way for as long as he can remember. But this time, she doesn’t have to say anything for him to return the favor.

 

It takes some doing, some awkward fumbling with her skinny jeans, a couple of minutes of silent staring while he tries to figure out what makes her feel good. But Betty, usually so quite and reserved, has no trouble telling him what she likes in here, in _her_ office, as their pants join the clutter on the floor. No trouble grabbing his wrist when he’s not touching her in the right spot. No trouble pulling his hair and thrusting her chest to his face when she wants him to pay more attention there and less attention to her neck (she’ll have a hard time covering up the evidence, anyway), and no trouble biting and sucking his lips until they have to come up for air.

 

“I think I like Dark Betty,” he says as she pulls her jeans back up and gropes around for her sweater.

 

He only saw the half of it, but that’s a conversation for another day. So instead of saying anything, she just curls up next to him on the couch and falls asleep.

 

**Season One, Chapter 11**

 

Betty locks herself in the Blue and Gold office for a few minutes of solitude before her mom inevitably drags her out and she has to face the music. That Jughead’s dad was arrested for Jason Blossom’s murder. That her mom likely tipped off the police, with the help of Archie and Veronica. And that Jughead took off without her, hating her for her complacency to her mother’s will.

 

When she reaches up to touch her face, she’s surprised to find it’s damp. She takes a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control over herself, but as she looks around the office, the crying only intensifies.

 

This used to be her place, her spot to escape to when she wanted to be alone. But then Jughead walked in and filled it with all his little quirks. Like the old typewriter he favors writing on. Several new coffee mugs bearing horrible, breakfast related puns. The cameras he meticulously rearranged and cleaned, since they were mostly abandoned before he joined her on staff.

 

In here, she’s overwhelmed by his presence. She can see him sitting at his desk, hair flopping into his eyes as he bangs on the typewriter. She can see them lying on the couch, fast asleep in one another’s embrace. He’s been in her life for so long, but once they started dating, it’s like they attached themselves to one another. She recognizes that’s probably unhealthy on some level, but she can’t bring herself to care. She feels what he feels. And now, it’s crippling her.

 

When she hears the inevitable bang on the door, she opens it immediately, trying to gather herself so she doesn’t cry in front of her mother. But Archie and Veronica tumble in instead, and at the sight of her best friends, the sobs wrack her body again. She lets Archie hug her, even though she’s furious at him for what he did to Jughead, even though she was planning on actively shunning him and Veronica, even though she knows she isn’t ready to forgive them yet. She stays in his arms until reality hits her in the face once more, and then she’s across the room and commanding that they leave her alone.

 

In all his years of knowing her, Archie has never seen her like this. For a second, he has a horrible, fleeting thought. He hates Jughead for doing this to her. But he banishes it as quickly as it came. By this point, he knows that his two best friends can’t help the way they make each other feel. He’s seen it before, seen it in the intensity of their fight at Jughead’s birthday, seen it in the way they can so easily forget about everyone else in the room. Sometimes, he wishes he could understand it. Right now, he doesn’t.

 

He’s known Betty for a long time, so he knows the best thing he can do for her now is leave. She’s strong and fiercely independent, despite how hard her mom tries to stifle this. He knows before the night is over, she’ll have pulled herself together to go after Jughead. So he drags Veronica out of the Blue and Gold office, and they head to Pop’s to see if Jughead is there, and also because Archie is starving.

 

Veronica protests the whole way there, but he knows Betty and Jughead better than anyone else in the world. There’s no doubt in his mind that she’ll be on their side by the end of the night.

 

**Season One, Chapter 12**

 

It’s all been too much. The betrayal from his friends. The rejection from his mom. The back and forth between thinking his father is a murderer and thinking he’s innocent. _He’s guilty. He was framed. He confessed. But Betty said…_ That’s what’s been running through his head all day. It’s enough to bring anyone to the brink.

 

He doesn’t know why he shows up at school. He should have stayed in Archie’s room. At least there, no one can stare at him like he’s the murderer, no one can skirt him in the halls, no one can slap him across the face and pummel him while he stands motionless in the middle of the cafeteria. But as much as he prides himself on being a lone wolf, there’s also no friends there. No Betty. And he knew he’d have to face the music sooner or later. Might as well do it on his terms. But between his father’s confession and the grueling interrogation he got from Keller and Weatherby and the beating he took from Cheryl and the pity in Betty’s eyes as she tried to convince him FP was innocent, he’s not sure he’ll make it through the day. By some miracle, he gets through his last class after lunch, slumped in a chair in the back row, trying to force his thoughts to something, anything that doesn’t make him feel miserable, but failing on all counts.

 

After that, the only thing he has left on his schedule for the day is a Blue and Gold meeting. He and Betty are supposed to run through edits on an article Ethel wrote, and she wanted him to take a look at some of Kevin’s photos. For the first time, he’s dreading it. He wants to blow it off, to just call it a day and go home, but he figures he’s put Betty through enough today. He should at least tell her where he’s going so she doesn’t worry anymore than she already is.

 

When he slips through the door, she’s already seated behind her desk, sipping on a coffee but apparently waiting for him to begin their editorial duties.

 

“Hey, I think I’m just gonna head back to Archie’s,” he says. “I’m not feeling great.”

 

She stands up and he can already tell she’s going to try to comfort him. Try to wrap her arms around him and make him feel like maybe things are okay. He doesn’t deserve it. So when she crosses the room and tries to take his hands, he turns his back, brushing her off.

 

“Juggie,” she says, and he can hear the desperation in her voice. “Please just talk to me.”

 

“I can’t, Betts,” he tells her, knowing he sounds weak and broken, knowing if he doesn’t get out of there soon he’ll let her take care of him. And that can’t happen.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I’ll just drag you down!” he shouts, turning around to face her. “You have work to do, you don’t need to deal with me, too.”

 

She takes a step closer and he flinches.

 

“How many times do I have to tell you? What’s yours is mine! The good and the bad.”

 

“I just… I can’t do this today, Betty.”

 

“Do what?” she asks, softer this time, inching another step closer. He can’t make himself back away.

 

“All of it. Anything. I just need a break.”

 

“Well you came to the right place. Let’s forget about the Blue and Gold for today, okay?”

 

“No, you should get to work on it. I’m just gonna take off.”

 

“Jughead Jones, I’m not letting you walk out of here.”

 

She reaches for his hand again, and this time he’s hesitant to pull away, so she leans in and kisses him and before he has time to think about what he’s doing, his body reacts instinctually and he’s kissing her back, trapping her against her desk. He tries to lose himself in the kiss. Tries to let her help him in this way. But soon enough, he’s seeing images of his father holding a gun, putting a bullet through Jason Blossom’s brain, and he can’t dispel them. He pushes away from Betty so fast their lips make a popping noise and she gasps at the sudden loss of contact.

 

“Jug,” she starts, but he’s spent. He can’t give her any more today.

 

“Betty, I’m sorry. I told you. I can’t do this today. I can’t be who you want me to be. It’s too much work.”

 

“Then just be,” she tells him. “We won’t talk. We won’t do anything. Just sit with me.”

 

He wants to say no. Instead, he says nothing.

 

“Please, Juggie. Don’t pull away from me.”

 

Her pleading gets him again, like it does every time, so he rounds her desk and hops onto the surface, staring out the dusty window. She joins him, putting her legs in his lap and wrapping her arms around his middle, holding him like a vice. He tugs on the elastic of her hair tie and she lets him remove it, hair tumbling down onto her shoulders. He cards his fingers through it, but other than that, they don’t move. They don’t speak. They just be.

 

* * *

 

**Season One, Chapter 13**

 

“I don’t think that’s spray paint, okay?” he says, gently pressing her face to his shoulder as he elbows his way out of the crowd.

 

She’s starting to fight him again, wanting to look up and find the person who did this, wanting to control the situation, but he won’t let her.

 

“Jug, come on,” she says twisting in his grip. “Let’s just go back and clean it up.”

 

“Not right now, Betts.”

 

“No, Juggie, I have to clean it,” she says, hysteria rising in her voice. “It’s my locker, it’s just spray paint, I have to clean it. I have to clean it!”

 

He hates seeing her like this. He wishes he could understand it. Her need for control, for perfection. It’s a compulsion. So much so that she actually tries to run back to her locker, desperate to rip down the vandal’s work. But his instincts are quick, and he catches her by the waist, basically dragging her into the Blue and Gold office kicking and screaming. She fights him for a few minutes, flailing legs and fists, nails scratching his arms, but he knows how to take a beating and he maintains his hold. Eventually, she stills, and he turns her around in his arms.

 

“You done?”

 

She nods, and he leads her to her desk chair and makes her a cup of coffee while she catches her breath. Once she’s had a few sips (caffeine has an oddly calming effect when it comes to Betty Cooper), he hops up on her desk and takes her hands in his, massaging them until her fingers finally uncurl, revealing the bloody mess of her palms.

 

“I’ve had a stressful day, okay?”

 

He shoots her a skeptical look, but still plants a kiss on each of her palms.

 

“I’ll go get you a wet paper towel,” he says.

 

“No,” she says, catching his hand as he stands up, pulling her to her feet with him. “Stay with me. Please, Juggie.”

 

“If that’s what you want.”

 

He falls back into the chair next to his desk that he usually uses to prop his feet up, and she drops into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

 

“You’re upset,” she says after a few minutes of silence.

 

“Of course I’m upset, Betts. If it weren’t for me…”

 

“Jug, you didn’t even want me to write the article in the first place. This isn’t your fault.”

 

He scoffs.

 

“Even if it isn’t, that doesn’t make it okay, not even close. And if I can’t protect you from this stuff…”

 

“I don’t need _protecting_ ,” she says, cutting him off again. “I just … I mean … who would write that? And why?”

 

“My guess? Someone who has some sort of epic grudge against my dad, or the Southside, or even some dumb jock with nothing better to do than terrorize you. Although the pig’s blood does take it to another level.”

 

Betty shivers, even as Jughead’s arms come around her waist.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says.

 

She’s done talking about it. So she leans up and kisses him, angled awkwardly in his lap but comfortable nonetheless, content to stay this wrapped up in him until everything else fades away.

 

Unfortunately, Archie and Veronica have other plans, and they come stumbling into the Blue and Gold office with contraband from the cafeteria just as Jughead moves his lips to her neck. If it were anyone else, she’d be embarrassed to be caught in a compromising position, but because it’s Archie and Veronica, she just relaxes back into Jughead’s arms.

 

“Oh, uh, sorry, you guys,” Archie stammers.

 

“Yes, our sincerest apologies for interrupting this very important, journalistic work. Do the two of you actually do any editing in this office? Or do you just defile it?”

 

Betty smiles at her best friend, and Jughead rolls his eyes with a glance in Archie’s direction.

 

“That was messed up, what they did to your locker,” Archie says to Betty.

 

“Nuanced observation, Arch,” Jughead says, and he feels Betty give a little laugh.

 

He can’t help but smile. Her association with him might be the reason she was targeted, but part of him wants to think she would have written that article anyway, and if he can make her laugh, even at a time like this, that’s something he can take pride in.

 

“We come baring gifts,” Veronica says, tossing a wrapped burger from the cafeteria in Jughead’s direction.

 

He’s tearing into it before Betty’s off his lap, famished since he didn’t get to finish his lunch. Betty joins Veronica on the couch across from Jughead’s desk, and Archie flops onto the floor at Jughead’s feet, digging into a plate of mac n’ cheese. They don’t talk about Betty’s locker. They don’t talk about Jughead’s dad, or Veronica’s, for that matter. They don’t really talk about anything of consequence. They rib each other and plan study sessions they know will just end in procrastination and sing along to songs from the 90’s. Because it doesn’t matter what’s going on outside the doors of the Blue and Gold. All that matters is that the four of them are together.


End file.
